Tragedy of Divinity

Chapter 37: Morning in Loyrn.

The morning light filtered weakly through the fog that clung stubbornly to Loyrn's streets. The trio stood outside their lodging, the air crisp and faintly metallic. Loyrn's hauntingly beautiful architecture towered above them—sharp, angular spires with intricate carvings that reached for the overcast sky. The streets were alive with activity, but the people moved with quiet precision, speaking in hushed tones, as though unwilling to disturb the strange atmosphere that hung over the city.

Seraphine adjusted her dagger at her side, her gaze flickering over the crowd. The citizens of Loyrn were as neatly dressed as the city itself. Men in long coats and polished boots, women in corseted gowns with intricate lace patterns—each person appeared meticulously groomed, yet their faces held a strange neutrality, as if their emotions were carefully tucked away.

"I hate this place already," Lucian muttered, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword. He hadn't slept at all, and his sharp black eyes scanned their surroundings like a hawk searching for prey.

Quintin, meanwhile, seemed unaffected by the city's unsettling ambiance. He carried his oversized backpack with an almost cheerful air, his eyes wide with curiosity. "I think it's nice," he said, craning his neck to look at a massive clock tower in the distance. The clock's hands moved in a strange, jerky rhythm, and the numbers on its face were written in an unfamiliar script.

"Of course you do," Lucian replied dryly. "You'd find a swamp 'nice' if it had enough food in it."

Quintin grinned. "Well, a swamp does sound better than last night's room. My back's killing me."

Seraphine sighed, stepping between them before their usual bickering could escalate. "We're here to gather information, not argue. Let's split up—Quintin, you're with me. Lucian, keep an eye out for anything suspicious."

Lucian raised an eyebrow. "Everything in this place is suspicious."

"Exactly," she replied, already turning toward the marketplace.

The Marketplace!

The market was a sprawling maze of stalls and storefronts, each one displaying an array of goods that ranged from the mundane to the bizarre. A vendor with a neatly trimmed beard sold glowing orbs that pulsed like living hearts. Another stall offered books bound in dark leather, their titles written in shifting, golden ink.

Seraphine moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her composed demeanor blending seamlessly with the citizens of Loyrn. Quintin, however, was a walking spectacle. His wide-eyed fascination with every stall and vendor drew more attention than Seraphine liked.

"Quintin, focus," she said sharply, pulling him away from a stall where a woman in a veil was selling what appeared to be bottled whispers.

"But did you see that?" Quintin whispered, his excitement undiminished. "Those bottles were moving. Like, really moving."

"We're not here to shop," Seraphine replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As they continued through the market, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. The citizens of Loyrn were polite, but their glances lingered just a moment too long, their smiles too measured.

Lucian's Observation

Meanwhile, Lucian wandered the quieter streets near the edge of the market. His hand never strayed far from his sword, his posture radiating a silent warning to anyone who might approach.

The buildings here were older, their once-grand facades crumbling under layers of soot and grime. A faint smell of decay lingered in the air, and the fog seemed thicker, almost tangible.

Lucian's sharp eyes caught movement in an alleyway—a figure cloaked in shadow disappearing around a corner. He followed without hesitation, his boots silent on the cobblestones.

The alley led to a small courtyard, where a circle of strange runes was etched into the ground. The figure was gone, but the air hummed with an unsettling energy, the runes pulsing faintly with a sickly green light.

Lucian crouched to inspect them, his jaw tightening. He didn't recognize the symbols, but their malevolent aura was unmistakable.

"Great," he muttered. "Just what we needed—creepy magic circles."

The Trio Reunites

By midday, the trio regrouped near the clock tower. Seraphine and Quintin arrived first, the latter balancing an armful of pastries he had bought despite Seraphine's protests.

"Where's Lucian?" Quintin asked, taking a bite of a flaky pastry.

"Probably glaring at something," Seraphine replied, scanning the crowd.

Lucian appeared moments later, his expression darker than usual. He glanced at Quintin's pastries and shook his head. "You're going to get yourself poisoned one day."

"Relax," Quintin said with a grin. "I asked the vendor if they were safe. She smiled and said they were 'perfectly harmless.'"

"That's exactly what a poisoner would say," Lucian shot back.

Seraphine stepped between them, her tone brisk. "Did you find anything?"

Lucian's gaze flickered to the market, then back to Seraphine. "There's magic in this city. Dark magic. I found a circle of runes in an alleyway—didn't recognize them, but they didn't feel friendly."

Seraphine frowned. "Did anyone else see it?"

"No," Lucian replied. "But something's off about this place. It's too controlled, too… perfect."

Quintin swallowed his pastry, his cheerful demeanor faltering. "You think someone's controlling the city?"

"Maybe," Lucian said. "Or maybe the city itself is alive."

The thought hung heavily in the air, the hum of the clock tower growing louder as if in response.

A New Lead

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the trio found themselves in a dimly lit tavern, its interior filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood. The patrons were subdued, their conversations quiet and wary.

Seraphine leaned across the table, her voice low. "We need answers, and fast. If this city is hiding something, we can't afford to stay here too long."

Lucian nodded. "I'll keep an eye on the streets tonight. See if I can find whoever made those runes."

"And me?" Quintin asked, already reaching for the last pastry in his bag.

"You stay out of trouble," Seraphine said firmly.

Quintin grinned. "No promises."

As the trio planned their next move, the Nation of Loyrn continued to hum softly around them, its secrets buried deep beneath its polished surface.